Operation Mongoose
by captainodonewithyou
Summary: A collection of various wild speculations based on all the finale spoilery. I don't have any control.
1. Rings

He is a storm but so is she, and when his frustration breaks in the form of some magical object slipping from one Gold's shelves, it sends green sparks flying and him jumping three feet and letting out some of the more creative curses Emma has heard.

He is still cursing when she sets down the book she is studying and turns to face him, stepping forward and reaching out to cradle his jaw that is even heavier with stubble than usual, stretching her thumb to smooth the lines of worry on his forehead and wishing it were as simple to sooth the tangled mess inside of him. The lines soften at her touch but the hurricane of fear darkening the blue of his eyes and the shadow set beneath them do not falter.

"Swear to me you'll wait, Emma."

He breathes the words when she pulls him near to her, pressing her lips to his shoulder and carding her fingers through his hair. The dagger presses at them both in her jacket between them—as sharp a reminder as its pointed tip.

"Swear to me that you'll give us time to find a better solution."

She holds him tighter to hide the way her body shakes to contain a sob and wants to tell that he is an _idiot_, that they are both idiots because they _have _the solution, the _best _solution and that she has already given more time than is justifiable.

They just do not love the consequences of it.

He presses his lips into her hair and digs his hook into her hip, grounding her and him and they are both storms indeed, clinging to each other in the otherwise quiet of the messy shop and sharing in the pains tearing them apart.

They do not say anything, not for a while. He rubs shaky circles against her spine and she buries herself into the crook where his neck meets his shoulder and times her quivering breaths to the steady beat of his heart– melting into his warmth until she can no longer entirely tell where he begins and she ends.

Until they are _one_.

"Give me one of your rings."

She breaks the numb embrace with a kiss to his neck and then words whispered soft in his ear, slipping her hand from his shoulder to press her fingers gentle at his chest. His eyes rove hers with quiet query but she feels his hand lift from the small of her back, twisting against itself before he raises it between them, motioning for her to give him her hand. The metal is warm from his skin when he slips it easily over hers, tangling his fingers around the back of her hand and bringing her palm to his lips.

Her eyes flutter closed when his warm lips brush her skin and she nearly falls back into his embrace. She forces herself back steadier into the hook still pressed at her hip instead as he twists her fingers properly in hers, settling their hands between them.

She forces her eyes open to find his trained on her with the wide delicate adoration that makes her stomach do flips.

She leans in and presses her lips to his for a fleeting moment, moving away before he can respond because if he _does _she is certain her resolve will not survive. She stares at him, lets him read her intentions for a fleeting moment,

"Whatever happens, Killian, no matter what—I know you'll find me."

Solid confusion settles into his gaze as she turns away and she knows it is coming before it actually does, cool hook slipping around her wrist and tugging her stumbling sharply back to face him.

They are silent a moment and there is contemplation and uneasiness in every line on his face, until—

"You didn't even get down on one knee, love."

He looks so goddamn _affronted _and tears are pooling hopelessly in her eyes now and she contemplates too long whether to hide her tears welling in her eyes or the laugh rising in her throat, resulting in an embarrassing choking sob rising past a smile instead.

"Why don't you show me how it's done then, Captain."

And of course, _of course _she hardly has to get the words from her mouth before he has swayed closer to her, baby blues bright and tender and brow furrowed with the lines she can only draw out in the most effortlessly sentimental moments. He is taking the hand with which she is wiping at her tears and pressing a brushing, lingering kiss to her forehead before he is slipping to a knee, hook still looped around her opposite wrist, eyes never straying from hers.

"Be my happily ever after, Emma."

She drags him to her lips, meeting him halfway and tuning her entire being into kissing him.

(She holds his hand steady against her heart and doesn't try to hide her tears, not anymore. He does not either. He finds the cool metal of the ring he has put on her finger and he thumbs at it softly, voice breaking when he speaks.

"You never gave me an answer."

His attempt at a tear-filled smile is the last thing she'll see.

"It's a good thing we aren't at The End, yet.")


	2. I Know

Her veins are on fire, burning whiter with every cry from the people surrounding her, following her, begging her to please, please just _wait _and _pause _and _consider_.

Angry, blinding flashes of lightning blaze around them in time with the hot pulsing of her veins, and she tightens her grip around the dagger in her shaking hand.

She has done enough _waiting_.

"We didn't fight this hard to lose our happy endings."

Her voice shakes in an odd mix of energy and fear.

And it may be weak, but it's the only reasoning she can come up with, with the electricity storming through her and the dagger growing hotter against her palm.

She knows better, knows her resolve can only weaken as her eyes drift across her parents, huddled together with silent, matching looks of broken defeat. Over Regina, concerned, lips pressed tight together in the closest thing to approval she imagines she'll be getting.

And God,_ she knows better. _

But she lets her gaze fall on Killian.

The fearful blue storm raging beneath his creased brow rivals even the masterpiece she has somehow instilled into the spinning, flashing air around them. She can tell in the lines of his face that there are words, so many words, poised on the tip of his tongue.

But for what Emma thinks might be the first time in his three hundred goddamn years of life, he can't choose the right words to say.

"I have to," she tells him, taking the barest, creeping step closer—and trying to ignore the way everyone but him cannot hide their flinches away from the power roaring from her.

She cannot blame them.

His eyes don't leave hers as he offers her a small, curt nod.

"I know."

It is not swallowing back a sob that frees the tiniest hiccup from the back of her throat as her teary eyes remain on him.

Her voice is strangled with tears when she finally speaks.

"Our happy ending… It will just have to wait a little longer."

Something switches in his eyes at her words, softening and hardening all at once before melting into that _expression_, the one that sometimes makes her believe, even if just for a moment, that she is the most important, stunning person on earth. The one that makes her think he might be under the impression that she paints the stars in the night sky.

And all in one movement, he is kissing her. Breaking through the space between them, digging his hook into her waist and his hand firm between her shoulder blades as he drags her closer and closer for _more_, regardless of the lightning storm she is creating around them that concerns even _her_.

The kiss is hungry and lingering, all tongue and teeth and _clinging _to each other and the fleeting moment they have left (because the second his arms fold around her she cannot help but fall into him, holding the dagger cautiously in the fist pressed against the small of his back and running her free hand up to grab tight hold of the leather covering his shoulder).

And she doesn't want to let him go. But his touch sends the already overpowering pulse of her magic into overdrive and she draws her lips back from his in a gasp, pressing her forehead into his shoulder and riding out the spurt of pure fire coursing through her.

He holds her tighter, hook nearly painful at her side.

"I have to do it now," she breathes into his shoulder, breathing in the familiar smell of him and making no move to let go.

"I know," he answers again, and her heart thuds as his arms begin to unlace from around her.

His eyes are at least three shades brighter than usual, and it takes her a moment to realize it is because they are filled with tears.

He catches the wrist of her free hand at the last possible moment, as she is turning away from the fearful faces trained entirely on her.

He presses his lips together and has to drag his watery blue gaze up to meet hers as the scratchy words pass by his lips, fingers digging into her wrist.

"I love you, Emma."

She cannot swallow the sob that takes her body in an echo of the storm swirling around her, and he is still there, still holding her, still watching her…

"I know."

A fleeting moment of a bleak, teary smile tugs at his lips… and it is the last thing she sees.


End file.
